Chapter 4Do-Over

I called the police. I checked the security footage. I drove around his school all night, searching.

He was only six. A little boy so pampered he refused to ride in anything but a sports car, a boy I had to coax into eating every meal.

Why? Why would he pack his little backpack and trudge out into the pouring rain, only to vanish into a surveillance blind spot?

Panic consumed me. Caleb was so young. It was dark, it was raining… what if he ran into someone dangerous?

A tidal wave of regret washed over me. I should have picked him up myself. I shouldn't have been so caught up with Tim.

I collapsed onto the floor and finally began to sob.

Seeing me in a state of utter breakdown, Tim stood up, a faint sneer in his eyes.

“I know where he is.”

“I’ll take you.”

I didn’t have time to think. I clung to him like a drowning person to a piece of driftwood and followed.

He wasn’t lying. He really knew where Caleb was.

When we arrived, Caleb was holding his tiny umbrella, struggling through the downpour. He, who was usually so fussy about cleanliness, who had a mild pollen allergy, was covered in mud. He didn't seem to notice. He was carrying a large bouquet of wild daisies, which he placed reverently in front of Willow’s tombstone.

His eyes were red as he leaned against the black-and-white photograph on the stone.

“Auntie Willow, I miss you so much.”

“Daddy said you’re not really his sister. He said… you were supposed to be my mommy.”

“I wish you were my mommy…”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I dropped my umbrella and rushed forward to take him home.

But he fought me, kicking and screaming.

“No! I don’t want to leave Auntie Willow! It was you! You took Daddy away from her! You stole me from her tummy! I don’t want a wicked woman like you to be my mom!”

He bit down hard on my wrist. Blood trickled down my arm, mixing with the rain. I cried out in pain and let him go. He scrambled away like a wounded animal seeking shelter and hid behind the tombstone, behind the cold, black-and-white photograph that offered him more security than his own living mother.

Tim stood by, arms crossed, watching the whole scene with cold detachment, as if I weren't his wife, as if Caleb weren't his son. The only time his expression changed was when I stumbled and nearly crushed the daisies.

He strode forward, his voice like ice. “Don’t get dirt on Willow’s favorite flowers.”

I shoved him away, my eyes locked on Caleb.

“Caleb… do you really not want me to be your mommy anymore?”

He nodded without a second of hesitation.

“Yes. If I could choose, I would want Auntie Willow to be my mom.”

“Fine,” I said, nodding. I turned and walked away without a single backward glance at the father and son mourning their lost love in the rain.